The tuna can

The tuna can

I am eating a tuna sandwich in the kitchen and I feel – am – so very free. I am, for we are born free creatures and only forget this that we are. But now I remember it clearly.

My mother and father are sleeping, so the house is subtly filled with space and silence. I can expand. My aura becomes shapeless, like all the primordial forms of life – formless. Everything is shapeless at the beginning and at the end, when the flesh has melted from our vertical bones just like the wax from the vertical candlestick. When we are in the in between of beginnings and endings and manage to remember that we are, in essence, shapeless, easing the chitin membrane that we develop throughout evolution, then we are the most truthful and powerful (the supreme power is always shapeless). I am a goblet melted into a sword melted into a goblet, again. Which one am I? Neither: I am iron. And fire is my will.

Aren't they rare, the ones that make us feel like their presence does not alter space? It is said that you know when you've met a good one when you feel comfortable in the silence with them – and what is space, but the silence of matter? You must ask yourself this question, but oh, with very delicate voice: who allows you to be formless?

I feel like this with him. When I think about someone to share this state of grace where I find myself tonight, I think about him, and it is not because I love and desire him; it is much quieter than that: it is because he can stay transparent while I Am. I expand, and he doesn't judge, nor ask questions. He doesn't even try to understand it inside the privacy of his own mind (understanding may be quiet, but getting there is such a noise). I would enjoy his company in this very formless moment with the tuna can because his mind does not make any incursion in me, and I am free from everything, even from his thoughts, so I can experiment my existence. Only his love touches me. And love is something very, very silent.

Maybe it is, after all, because I love him. And it seems like I have learned the meaning of love.

We so often see people that do not emit a sound with their mouths but they do with their minds. I can hear their thoughts – the thousands and thousands of opinions being emitted per second inside their heads. He doesn't need that, for he knows, and one that knows does not need to understand. Love is also that: understanding, and understanding, as the intimacy and the silence of a parenthesis in a text, is something quiet (i love you). I once wrote that there is no difference between knowing and loving. This is why God, as an all-knowing being, is the epitome of love. Is God a being? I guess It is, in the sense that It is always being.

How long since I last Was? Or – how many hours since he has gone to sleep? What a joy! I have found someone with whom I can Be with.

Speaking of shapeless things, I have a secret: I have generated an image of an Indian wedding online and I use it as my cellphone's background. I keep it there because I think of him. The face of the man and the woman cannot be seen, however: it is a smudge of colors. I like that, even tho it scares me a bit. No, I like that because it scares me. One day I bought a houseplant just because it was of a shade of green dark and wild and it made me feel scared. I like things that make me scared. Not the terrifying, alarming sensation – too noisy... This surviving-mode scare sparks few interest in me. I am talking about the quiet fear that is the stinger of a scorpion penetrating your chitin membrane to inoculate the burning remedy of wondering; the one that calls for something ancient and forgotten inside of us. An ominous déjà vu, like the one you get looking at the elongated skull of pharaoh.

I was thinking about mirrors. They are objects of profound silence and generosity. They reflect all and everything, and yet it is itself. Mirrors teach us lessons that are scorpion's stingers. They are beings (yes, they Are) of great receptiveness - the most profound acceptance is reflection, and they also teach us that one does not lose their individuality in generosity, as the mirror that, although can reflect a chair, will never be confused with one. It is always mirror. Due to that, to this emptiness, mirrors exist even when the original form is gone, just as a broken chair is not a chair anymore, but a shattered mirror is itself in each and every tiny piece scattered on the ground. Mirrors are pure substance, and for that, they are formless.

I was also thinking about the tuna. They were beings (fish always Are, since they don't have the brain power to mislead themselves), and I don't even know how many made this can their tin casket. How many dead creatures are there in this can?, the question comes without horror, moralism nor sense of superiority, which is always sadistic. But then it changes, and I think for a moment that it might be gratitude what I am feeling, but it is even more primordial that that. Gratitude is something felt towards something external. One never is grateful to themselves – if you ever thought you experienced that, the truth is that you were grateful to your past self, and that by itself is a split. Two creatures, and now one can thank the other.

This was not what I felt when I saw the oily, savory meat. There was no separation, I was life as the tuna was. I didn't need to thank them: them knew. We were teeth and flesh, expansion and contraction of the same heart. We Were. With my mouth I dissolve the last form that was given to those lives: the form of a can, and gve them back to formlessness. One day this shall be my destiny, as well. My years will flow by, my muscles will loose and my skin will melt like the wax of the candlestick. Until that day, may I burn bright, each day with less of the noise that is smoke.

Brilliance is also something silent.